Carefully, Flick got to his knees and began slowly shifting the rocks in the pile. Any time now, Tristam…
Robert grunted behind him, and Flick felt the man’s grip go slack. He turned around to see Tristam carefully lowering the messenger’s body to the ground. Kyra dropped off the roof, eyed Robert, unconscious on the ground, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“He’s alive,” said Tristam. “He’ll have a headache when he wakes though.”
“Cutting it a bit close?” said Flick, shaking out his arms and shoulders. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been.
“Sorry,” said Tristam. “With that knife drawn on you, I wanted to make sure he didn’t see me coming.”
Flick plucked Robert’s dagger off the ground and wiped the dust off the blade. “I’m keeping this,” he said. “For my troubles.”
T W E N T Y - S I X
They bound Robert tightly and gagged him while Tristam hurried back to the Palace for a wagon. When the messenger awoke, Kyra showed him her dagger.
“You’ll be quiet,” she said, conjuring her best imitation of James in his more dangerous moments. “And you won’t cause any trouble.” The messenger’s glare could have sparked kindling, but he made no noise.
A short while later, Tristam pulled up with a wagon full of the fake demon cat heads. “I told them I was going to set up some exercises outside the city,” he said. “I suppose I’ll have to do that now.”
By pulling the wagon right to the alley, they loaded Robert without attracting too many wayward glances. Flick lay down behind him, holding tight to the ropes that bound Robert’s wrists. Kyra took her place in front of the messenger, and Tristam covered all three of them with demon cat heads. The hemp sacks smelled like mold, and Kyra could feel Robert’s eyes on her in the cramped semidarkness. The messenger exuded fury, and Kyra wondered how they would possibly get him to cooperate before the start of the Demon Rider offensive in seven days.
After a bumpy and stuffy ride out of the city, Tristam pulled the wagon off the road. Flick left to find his friends, and Kyra and Tristam marched Robert to Kyra’s cave. Their captive walked stoically in front of them, with Tristam’s knife at his back. He was obediently quiet, but his eyes were a bit too keen, and it was with great relief that Kyra saw her cave appear ahead of them.
Kyra scouted it first, then waved Tristam in when she found it empty. Not much light came in from the mouth, and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. It also smelled slightly of cat, and Kyra wondered if Tristam noticed.
Tristam ungagged Robert. “You may sit if you’d like,” said Tristam, motioning to the cave wall. The messenger glared at them but carefully lowered himself onto the ground. He pulled his legs away from Kyra when she tried to retie them, but relented after a moment.
“You’re from the Forge Council?” said Robert. “I didn’t peg that fellow for a Palace man.”
“We’ll be asking the questions,” Tristam said calmly. “Who sent the message to Willem?”
Robert’s laugh had a sarcastic edge. “And you expect me to simply lay it all out for you?”
“No, not immediately. But you will. You looked competent with that dagger, but you’re a messenger and not a soldier. You aren’t sworn to die for your master, and I don’t think you mean to. It might take some time for this to sink in, but you’ll come around.”
Kyra had been on the receiving end of Tristam’s interrogations not long ago, and it was strange to be on the other side. Tristam didn’t yell or raise his voice, but there was a quiet intensity to the way he spoke that commanded attention. He was also incredibly calm. All their plans hinged on this messenger, but Tristam acted as if he had the upper hand.